My thoughts run wild as an acquaintance tells stories, squandering the paths led to by God, of brothers in Christ. I’ve sat amongst those groups of finger pointing who is always asking, what gives you the right. Speaking for myself, I gather much wisdom from the stories of these men who have crosses to bear. The paintings etched in their fragmented soul of the past’s pain, still relay its toll. Respectfully, I pray God, our great Father, will heal the life which destroyed your soul.
As day breaks, I meander my way through the carved paths few traveled along the mountainsides. Thousand of years ago, God arrived and planted trees to hold the hillside, and His flowers bloomed adding to the beauty of nature. A river bends through the swaying trees where barren life once existed on earth. Valleys burned from heaven’s thunder as God cleared the land to rebuild the forest. Life is so unrehearsed.
A little boy sat in the corner with his nose against the wall. He never realized how disruptive he was to other students. The class frowned at him, but he still didn’t understand his misbehavior during the lesson. A bell loudly rang, and kids jumped up from their desks to run to the cafeteria. Yet, a little boy deprived of lunch sat in his confusion of tears.
“Hello? God? Hello, are You here? Can You hear me? May I have a moment of your time, please”?
Dead silence. I’ll wait a minute – He’s busy as you can well imagine. “Hello??”
A soft deep voice speaks, “Yes? I’m always here!” He continues, “I painted the foliage green, the sky iridescent, the water translucent, and the meadows a brilliant array in the sunshine.”
I stopped in my tracks to understand His words. I stood in awe, never expecting that reply.